Through the Years
by Alexandri
Summary: Sequel to We've Only Just Begun and Wedding Gifts. Snippets of Joan and Adam's first 19 years of marriage. DISCONTINUED.
1. Compromise

A/N: I'm back. I needed a break. As a result, I've gone back to my fan fiction roots: writing about Joan and Adam. Hope you enjoy it.

I'm working on chapter twelve of "The Space Between." I haven't abandoned it.

Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to the show as we all know.

* * *

_**April 1, 2016**_

Adam sat at the dining room table doing what he always did when he felt lost: he sketched Joan. It wasn't a conscious decision on his part. He couldn't explain it but, even when they weren't speaking, thinking about her centered him.

She had barely spoken to him for a week. He understood her anger. They'd made a plan. They were going to live in Arcadia. She'd continue working at the high school and he'd continue doing his freelance work while establishing a reputation in the local art community. They'd spend weekends with their families and friends. In a few years, they'd buy a house and start a family of their own. Then he'd gone back to New York for a week and returned with news that could mean totally changing everything. If the situation were reversed, he'd be upset, too.

Burying his hand in his hair, Adam focused on shading the nose in his drawing. Though he understood Joan's mood, the silence was beginning to get to him. He didn't how much longer he could hold out before forcing the conversation he knew they needed to have.

Suddenly, the table rocked. He looked up to find Joan sitting across from him. "I assume you have some papers or something with the details on it," she said.

"Marcus sent them to me the other day."

When he didn't speak or move, Joan raised her eyebrows expectantly. "Can I see them?"

Adam chuckled nervously at his slowness. He'd been surprised that she'd spoken to him, especially about the offer. "Sure," he said and went to get the packet Marcus had mailed him. He handed it to her, then sat and watched her go through it page by page.

Finally, she looked up, a neutral expression on her face. "Do you want this?"

"It's a great opportunity," he answered. "I think we should at least consider it bef—"

"Adam," she interrupted, shaking her head, "do you want to do this?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "Things are good here."

"But?"

"But it's a steady income. I won't have to worry about taking care of us."

Joan smiled. "You've done a pretty good job so far."

"I'm serious, Jane. I want . . . I need to be able to take care of you." He reached across the table and brushed his hand over her cheek. "I can if take the job."

She sobered and took his hand in hers. "Is that the only reason you'd do this?"

"It's not like I ever considered teaching before, especially not at the university level. But there was something about standing in front of those classes, talking to Marcus's students, answering their questions. I enjoyed it, Jane. And I'd still get to do my art."

"Sounds to me like you want the job."

Adam shrugged and stared at her hand stroking his arm. He knew she didn't realize she was doing it. "What do you think about this?"

Joan took a deep breath and slowly released it before answering. "If it's what you want, then you should go for it."

"You'd come with me, right?" he asked, concerning by her phrasing.

She laughed and nodded. "Where you go, I go."

"Thank you," he said as he kissed the back of her hand.

"You're welcome." She stood and headed for their bathroom. "Adam?"

"Yeah?"

"We take care of each other."

* * *

April 3, 2016

Dearest Jane,

I used to think that I knew you—that there was very little about you that could surprise me anymore. A year married to you has proven me wrong. I am discovering you in the most mundane things: grocery shopping, paying our bills, spending lazy Saturdays on the couch flipping through the channels. My love, you are fascinating and your mystique only grows with each day that passes and every new thing I learn about you.

I've always believed that we were meant to be together. Even so, I'm only now beginning to realize what life is meant to be and you are at the center of it. Before you, I saw the world as hard and cruel, something to be endured. After I met you, everything became more bearable. But it wasn't until you accepted my ring and my name that it all began to make sense. I may have discovered you in the day-to-day things, but I'm finding life in your arms and your kisses, your smiles and your frowns, your eyes and your words. This past year has only been a taste, a glimpse of what's to come and what can be.

But the reality of marriage is that it's a dance of compromise and sacrifice. I've asked you to give up our plan for the job at NYU. And I know you only agreed because you love me and want me to be happy. Thank you. I don't pretend to know how moving to New York will turn out, but I think it'll be good. Just as compromise is a fact of marriage, unexpected change is a fact of living.

I want to leave you with this thought. In college, I'd lie awake watching you sleep. I'd imagine what it would be like to wake up to you every morning and fall asleep beside you every night. I thought it would be a thrilling, heightened experience like watching Fourth of July fireworks. Instead, it's quiet, subtle. Exhilarating, but also profound. A sense of rightness has permeated every second of our marriage from the moment we took our vows. Yet nothing feels more right than wrapping my arms around you as you nestle into me at night and kissing you awake in the mornings.

Happy anniversary, Jane.

All my love,

Adam


	2. The Sweetest Gift

A/N: Just wanted to say thanks for the kind reviews. Yes, there will be eighteen more. I'd also like to thank KateM for beta-ing for me. That's pretty much it. Enjoy. Alexandri

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_**March 27, 2017**_

Adam jogged up the stairs toward his and Joan's apartment. It was late, almost nine. As much as he liked teaching at NYU, he hated the late nights. Joan would be tired; she might even be asleep already. The pregnancy had taken a lot out of her. Unlocking the front door, he figured he'd slip in quietly, just in case.

He laid his briefcase on the sofa. She wasn't in the living room and a glance told him she wasn't in the kitchen. Tugging at his tie, he went to their bedroom. The only light came from the bathroom, something she often did when he was late and she couldn't stay up any longer. But she wasn't in bed. Adam opened his mouth to call her name as he turned toward the bathroom.

Joan stood nude in front of the sink. Her chestnut hair gleamed in the light as it framed her serene, smiling face and caressed her back, shoulders, and breasts. Slowly, reverently, she slid her hands over her swollen belly. With infinite delicacy, her fingers traced across her taut skin as if she were stroking the baby inside.

Adam's breath caught at the sight of her. He stood in the middle of their room, shrouded in shadow, not daring to move or even breathe for fear of spoiling the moment. His eyes glided over her, taking in the changes the pregnancy had caused. Her arms and legs were softer, rounder like the women in Renaissance paintings. Her breasts were fuller, something he'd taken full advantage of the last few months. But it was her stomach that fascinated him. He'd spent hours caressing it, kissing it, talking to the baby while she laughed at the silly stories he made up. Sometimes he'd simply pressed his ear to her belly and listen while she ran her fingers through his hair. Watching her, he once again felt the awe he'd experienced when she'd first told him they were going to have a baby.

Suddenly, she turned toward the shower and checked the water. She adjusted it, checked it again and then twisted her hair up before stepping in, closing the curtain behind her.

Adam stood motionless after Joan got in the shower. He knew his wife was beautiful. He'd known it since the very first time he laid eyes on her. Yet there were moments when her beauty surpassed his experience, when her radiance took on some heretofore-unknown dimension that left him breathless and enchanted. He waited for his captivation to subside, then took off his clothes. Quietly, he slipped into the bathroom and got in the shower with his wife. Slipping his arms around her burgeoning waist, he pressed against her back and nuzzled her neck. "Hey."

"Hey," she returned as she leaned back in his arms. "How was your day?"

"Long. You?"

"Same," she sighed. "I'm glad you're home."

He turned her in his arms and kissed her. "So am I."

* * *

April 3, 2017

My precious Jane,

There are times when I wonder how I got so lucky. What did I do to deserve a woman like you? How is it possible that I inspire the same look of timeless love in your eyes that I feel in my heart? Why do you smile when I touch you, moan when I kiss you, melt when I hold you, and sigh when I leave you? What have I done to merit the devotion that you bestow on me? I often ponder the answer to these questions but I've yet to find any answers. So I've decided to stop questioning Fate, destiny, God, all of it. I do have you. You do feel the same timeless love that I feel. You do smile when I touch you, moan when I kiss you, melt when I hold you, and sigh when I leave you which I never want to do. I do have your devotion whether I deserve it or not. I'm grateful for that every day. I'm grateful for you.

But more than anything, I'm grateful for what you've shown me. With you, the world is a place of wonder and joy, possibility and hope. There is no greater example of that than the baby you're carrying. I never thought about having children before you, never dreamed that I'd be someone's father. How can I ever thank you for constantly showing me how multi-faceted, how very rich life can be? I guess the only solution is to make it as multi-faceted and rich for you as I can. I think, though, that you have me outmatched in that department.

People often talk about the miracle of childbirth and how life-altering it is to hold your newborn child, especially your first one, for the first time. I suppose we'll find out soon enough. But this past year has been awe-inspiring. Watching your body change, going to classes with you, all of it—sharing this pregnancy with you is by far the most amazing experience of my life. I wish I could share the pain with you as well as the joy so that you wouldn't have to do it all by yourself. I can't share the pain of pregnancy with you, but know that you will never have to raise our child alone. I will always be with you, both of you. There's no other place I'd rather be than by your side.

With All My Love,

Adam


	3. Balancing Act

A/N: Thanks, as always, for the reviews. They make my day. Yes, all of the chapters will be from Adam's POV, though I'm not sure why. Kurukami, you're right. A little rain must fall even in a love like Joan and Adam's. Otherwise, this would be one boring story. Besides, it's through the hard, painful times that we discover the strength and depth of any bond. By the way, that was a beautifully worded review. Anywho, rest assured that I am building up to something and it won't be edenic. Enjoy the ride. Alexandri

* * *

**_November 22, 2017 _**

Joan slipped her arms around Adam's waist from behind and laid her cheek on his shoulder. He smiled and continued mixing the filling for the pumpkin pie. "Is Simon asleep?" he asked.

"Finally," she answered. She snuggled closer and tightened her arms around him. "Thank you for making the pies."

"You're welcome." Adam patted her arm and went back to mixing. "Are you sure you don't want to go to bed?"

"I don't want to go without you," she said, a yawn distorting her words.

Adam poured the filling in the crust before turning in his wife's arms. She lifted her head and smiled into his troubled eyes. There was an aura of fatigue about her. Even her smile was weary. He knew that the demands of her job and a new baby, a young marriage, and too little sleep were responsible for the bags under her eyes and her dwindling energy. Making the pies for tomorrow's Thanksgiving dinner at Kat and Rodney's was the least he could do. He just wished he could take on more of her burden so she wouldn't be so spark-less. "I really think you should go to bed."

She shook her head.

"You'll feel better after you've gotten some sleep," he tried.

"Not without you," Joan said with another shake of her head. She buried her face in the crook of his neck.

Gathering her even closer, Adam kissed the shell of her ear and rubbed her back in long, soothing strokes. "I'll be finished in here in a few minutes. At least wait for me on the sofa."

Joan pouted, thrusting her lower lip out in a way that enticed him despite his concern. Grinning, he lowered his mouth to hers for a gentle kiss. With a soft moan, she leaned into the kiss, her hands creeping up his chest and winding around his neck. He murmured her name and tried to end the kiss but she swept her tongue over his lips and into his mouth.

This time it was Adam who moaned as he plunged his hand in her hair and kissed her with the full force of his pent-up desire. Their sex life had ground almost to a complete halt recently. Once the school year began, Joan had run herself ragged trying to juggle work and a three-month-old baby. By the time they got home and Simon was down for however long he'd stay asleep, Joan was exhausted, sometimes to the point of tears. The last thing on her mind was sex. For the past six months, Adam had held her at night and tried to help however and whenever he could. Now all thoughts of being helpful were driven from his mind as Joan pressed her body, still soft and slightly plump from the pregnancy, against him. He sucked her tongue lightly and was rewarded with the guttural noise she made at the back of her throat.

She had risen on her toes, straining to get as close to him as possible, when the teakettle began to whistle. He jumped and pulled back, startled by the shrill sound. "The pies," he exclaimed as he pulled out of her arms.

"Damn it," she muttered as she stepped back.

Adam laughed and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "Go to the living room. I'll be there in a minute."

Joan brushed her hand over his cheek and he could tell she was debating kissing him again. Finally, she sighed and said, "Okay, but hurry."

"Unchallenged," he answered and kissed her palm before she left.

He quickly switched out the pies then made a cup of Joan's favorite peppermint tea. He took it to the living room and sat beside her.

"Is that for me?" she asked, reaching for the teacup.

"Mm-hmm. I thought you might like some since it helps you sleep."

"Thank you." She took a sip and smiled at him. She'd perked up since their kiss but she still seemed tired.

Adam frowned and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm worried about you, Jane."

"I know."

"You can't keep going like this," he continued. "You're going to shut down like you did in college if you don't slow down."

"Adam . . ."

"I wished you'd let me help more."

"You've been wonderful, sweetie," she said, brushing the fringe back from his forehead.

"Yeah, but . . ."

Joan laid her fingers on his lips, cutting off the rest of his sentence. "You've been a huge help and very supportive."

"But you're still wiped out all of the time," he countered. "There has to be something we can do about that."

"I, um, I've been thinking about something that might help," she said, taking his hand in hers, "but I'm not sure how you'll feel about it."

"Tell me," he said as he turned toward her.

She took a deep breath and released it before meeting his eyes. "I've been thinking about quitting."

Adam's mouth fell open. "What, your job?"

Joan nodded. "If we can afford it."

"But I thought your career was important to you," he sputtered.

"It is, but I feel like I have all this stuff going on, you know. I mean, we've only been married for, what, two and a half years and already we've moved twice and gotten new jobs and had a baby." She raised her hands as if she needed to show the helplessness she was feeling. "I'm having a hard time balancing it all and something has to give."

"It's just the newness of it all, Jane. We'll figure it out."

"Probably," she conceded, "but in the meantime, I'm fulfilling my responsibilities at work and Simon's needs are being met, but I'm neglecting you. I don't want our relationship to be the thing that gives until we figure this out."

"I don't feel neglected," he said quickly.

She laughed. "Yes, you do. How long has it been since we kissed like we just did? If you don't feel neglected, then I should be concerned because I know I've missed you."

Adam propped his arm on the back of the sofa and absently played with her hair as he stared at her, thinking over what she'd said. "I've missed you, too," he finally said.

Smiling, she took another sip of tea. "So what do you think?"

"Would you be happy being a stay-at-home mom?"

"I'd get to spend more time with Simon. I worry about him when I'm at work," she admitted with a little laugh.

"But would you be happy not working?"

"It wouldn't be forever. Just until Simon's three or four, you know, old enough for preschool."

"Yeah, but, Jane . . ."

"Adam," she interrupted, "I'm choosing to make you and Simon my priority. Nothing else is as important as you two."

He smiled. "What about the gap in your résumé when you're ready to go back to work?"

After a moment's thought, she said, "Well, as Simon gets older, I'll volunteer at a shelter or something. I'm sure the children there need someone to talk to."

"You're sure this is what you want?"

Joan nodded. "Yes."

"Okay. We'll go over our bills and things Friday and see if we can do it."

"Thank you."

Adam kissed her, a lingering kiss that left him feeling a little light-headed. He pulled back and smiled at the desire in her eyes. "I just want you to be happy," he whispered against her lips.

She cupped his cheek. "I am," she said. Then she leaned in for another kiss.

* * *

April 3, 2018

Jane,

We've moved into a new phase. Having Simon has changed our life. Suddenly everything is fuller and crazier, better. Life means so much more now that we have him. Last night, the three of us fell asleep on the bed, you pressed against my side, Simon on my chest. Your fingers were twined with mine as they lay on his tiny back. Despite having to share you, I've never been happier than I am with the two of you. I can only hope I give you as much happiness as you've given me.

Love,

Adam


	4. Unwanted

**_March 10, 2019_**

"You want to tell me what's wrong?" Adam asked as he watched Joan move around their room getting ready for bed.

She stopped and gave him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Nothing's wrong."

He nodded, thinking over the evening. Joan had been unusually quiet and distant. She'd been like that for a couple days now. It bothered him that she wouldn't share whatever was on her mind. "How long have I known you, Jane?"

Brow furrowed, clearly surprised by the question, she answered, "Sixteen years."

"So why are you even bothering to lie to me?"

Joan stared at him with wide eyes then sat beside him on the bed, sighing. She turned her wedding band compulsively around her finger, a sure sign that she was upset about something. Apprehension tightened Adam's chest. What could she have to tell him that was so bad?

"Do you remember that fight we had on Valentine's Day?" she asked quietly.

Adam nodded, a slight smile on his lips. He'd had to work late again, canceling the plans she'd made for them. When he'd finally gotten home, Joan was furious. She'd accused him of never making time for the family anymore. He was either at the university or working on his art. He'd tried to appease her anger, especially after she lamented the waste of having Simon spend the night with one of his playground friends. But the more she fussed, the angrier he got until they were both shouting at each other. They were in each other's face when she said that she'd quit her job to spend more time with him. He'd said if she hadn't quit, he wouldn't be working so hard now. Then she'd slapped him.

The sharp, burning surge of anger he'd felt and the subsequent compulsion to strike back shocked and scared him. As his cheek burned in the shape of her handprint, Adam did the first thing he could think of to keep from lashing out: he kissed her.

She'd pushed back but he didn't lose his grip of her arms. He'd stared at her, a little thrown. The anger he'd felt mere seconds ago now pounded through his body as desire. Thrusting his hands in her hair, he'd claimed her mouth again. This time Joan had returned his kiss, grabbing at him, trying to pull him closer. Before either knew what was happening, they were tearing each other's clothes off and having sex on the living room floor.

"I'm not likely to forget it any time soon, eidetic memory notwithstanding."

Joan chuckled nervously. "I'm pregnant."

Her voice was so low he almost didn't hear her. When her statement registered, his instinctive excitement was eclipsed by her forlorn tone. Adam knew fear of his reaction wasn't responsible for her despondent air. She didn't want the baby. He frowned and pressed his lips together to hold back his own sadness. "How long have you known?" he asked finally because he had to say something.

"A couple of days."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She shrugged. "I wanted to give myself time to get used to the idea. I don't know, maybe work up some enthusiasm before I told you."

"I see." They sat quietly side-by-side, staring at their laps, lost in their own thoughts. Adam wondered what he should do now. How was he supposed to deal with his pregnant wife not wanting to have the baby? Should he simply put aside his feelings and go along with whatever she decided to do? That sounded like a recipe for disaster. However, he couldn't forbid her to abort it. His mind began to spiral through a variety of scenarios: if she had the baby, aborted the baby, gave the baby up for adoption, what would happen to their marriage? As his thoughts traveled farther along the "what if" trail, Adam realized that he'd jumped the gun. Forcing his mind to stop racing, he reminded himself that he had no idea what Joan was thinking. Willing his heart to slow down, he slipped his hand into hers where it lay on her thigh.

Joan sniffled as she stared at their clasped hands, his wedding band gleaming faintly in the light. A tear dripped onto the back of his hand. Adam raised Joan's chin until he could look in her eyes. Her face covered with tearstains, a mix of guilt and misery clouded her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

It pained him to see her so unhappy. He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips before pulling back and wiping the tears from her cheek. "Why?" he asked, not entirely sure what he meant by the question.

"I don't know," she wailed softly. "I know I should be happy. There are millions of women who would love to be in my position. I'm happily married. We have a wonderful little boy, a beautiful home. I don't really want for anything. Being pregnant again should be exciting and, I don't know, joyous. But I don't feel it." She dropped her gaze back to her lap after her confession. "What if something's wrong with me?"

"There's nothing wrong with you, Jane," he assured as he gathered her in his arms.

Joan laid her head on his shoulder. Sighing, she gradually relaxed in his arms as he stroked her hair. Adam couldn't remember the last time he'd been so conflicted. Joan clearly didn't want the baby, but he didn't know if he would be okay with any other decision than keeping it. He held her closer, keenly aware of her tears seeping through his t-shirt, and prayed that this dilemma had a satisfactory solution.

"I only had another year and a half," she said quietly, almost to herself. "Now, it'll be another three, maybe four years."

"Another three or four years until what?"

"Until I can go back to work."

A light bulb lit up over his head. _So that's why she doesn't want it_, he thought. His anxiety began to recede.

"I had a schedule," she said, "a plan. I was going to go back to work next year. Now I can't and you still have to support all of us by yourself."

"I don't mind taking care of you and Simon, Jane. That's my job."

"We're married," she reminded, staring up at him with serious eyes. "That means we're partners. You shouldn't have to do it alone."

Adam kissed her forehead. "When's the baby due?"

"November."

"Okay," he said. "Simon will turn three the following May and the baby would be about six months by then. So by . . . when does the new school year start?"

"Late August."

"So by late August, the baby would be completely weaned. Would you breastfeed again?"

Joan gave him a small smile. "Yes."

"Jane, we could get a nanny."

"I know," she said, "but we can do that now."

"Then why don't we?" he asked, wanting to understand where she was coming from.

"Because I don't want our kids raise by some outside party."

"What?"

Turning fully toward him, Joan said earnestly, "The first few years are important in a child's life. These are formative years. I don't want some nanny putting ideas and principles in our kid's head. It's our responsibility to make sure Simon and any other children we have are . . ."

"Jane," Adam interrupted, taking her face in his hands to stop the fevered stream of her words, "what's this really about?"

"I'm trying to tell you."

"No, you're repeating lectures from your psych classes," he corrected, "which you never do. At least, you don't do that at home. So I'm going to ask again: what's really going on?"

She just stared at him. For a moment, he thought she wasn't going to answer him. Then her shoulders slumped and she looked away. "My mom didn't work when we were little."

"You're not Helen."

"I know, but . . ." she trailed off.

"But what?"

"I want to be a good mom."

"And not working is the only way to do that?" he asked.

"Of course not," she said. "It's just that I know that way works."

"So you're going to not work until our last child is school-aged even if it drives you crazy?"

"Well, it sounds stupid when you put it like that," she sulked.

Chuckling, Adam kissed her cheek and gave her a little squeeze. "Employed or not, you are a good mom, Jane."

She gave him a slight smile. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he said, holding her a little closer. "So what are we going to do about the pregnancy?"

Joan blinked at him. "What do you mean?"

"Are we going to have it or not?" he asked, confused.

"When weren't we having it?" she asked, just as confused as him. "We were never not having it."

"We weren't?"

"No," she affirmed. "I'm not happy about being pregnant, but I never thought about not having it."

"You didn't?"

Joan laughed and took his face in her hands. "Adam, what I'm feeling right now may be temporary. By the fifth month, I could be ecstatic about being pregnant again. And, even if I'm not, this is our baby. I'm not going to punish it for our irresponsibility or my ambivalence or whatever. At the end of the year, we're going to be the parents of two, assuming nothing goes wrong."

A smile lit Adam's face. She returned it though hers wasn't as satisfied as his. Hoping her discontent dissolved soon, Adam raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it. "It's getting late."

"I'm going to check on Simon," she said as she stood and left the room.

Adam got in bed and waited for her. She came back a few minutes later and slipped into bed, finally snuggling in his arms. With a whispered "good night," Joan settled in for the night. He stared up at the ceiling thinking of a way to make Joan feel better about the whole situation. Eventually, he said, "Jane?"

"Hmm."

"Couldn't you work part-time? That way a nanny would only be putting ideas in our kids' heads for half a day."

"Nice," she answered sarcastically. "Mock your pregnant wife's concerns."

"Not mocking," he corrected. "Compromising."

Joan gave a little laugh and kissed his collarbone. "I'll think about it."

* * *

April 3, 2019

My lovely Jane,

Our life is full of twists and turns. Around every bend is a new opportunity to alter our course. Some of our choices have fit us perfectly, others not so well. While we can't change the past, we can modify our present to enhance our future. I know you're not happy with the way things are right now and, if you could, you'd change them. Know that I'm always here for you, that I'll learn to listen when you need me to and give my opinion or advice when you ask for it.

In the case of our children, present and future, I believe that you are capable of more than you think you are. I've watched you with Simon and I know that there's nothing to worry about. You are a fantastic mother. You watch over him like a hawk but you also encourage him to experience the world. Helen was a great mom. You more than live up to her example. Trust yourself. I do. More importantly, Simon does.

I know you're worried that I'm carrying the "burden" of supporting us. But we are partners, Jane, and, right now, we have a division of labor that's not overlapping. But that doesn't mean that either of us is slacking. We're just adjusting, finding our way. Taking baby steps toward making a go at a happy lifetime together. There will be missteps and doubts. I certainly have mine. We just have to rely on each other to stay balanced and connected.

As always, the best things in my life come from having you in it. I love you, Jane.

Adam


	5. Baby Love

_**March 14, 2020**_

Adam rolled over, his arm falling on Joan's side of the bed. It was empty, but in the past three months since their daughter Hannah had been born, that was often the case. He smiled and relaxed into the mattress, letting sleep reclaim him, when he realized the spot was cold. Frowning, Adam squinted at the clock. It was almost three in the morning. Hannah had awakened over an hour and a half ago. Sighing, he shoved the covers aside and got out of bed.

He stopped at Simon's room first. The toddler was fast asleep. He could sleep through just about anything. Smiling fondly at his son, Adam closed the door and headed toward Hannah's room. As he suspected, Joan sat in the rocking chair he'd bought after she'd told him she was pregnant with Simon, Hannah sleeping peacefully in her arms.

For a moment, Adam reclined in the doorway watching Joan hum quietly as she caressed their daughter's face. He couldn't help appreciating the sight. Joan had been unhappy throughout the pregnancy. She never seemed to resent the baby itself, just the fact that she was pregnant again. Adam hadn't mentioned it, but he'd been worried about both Joan and the baby, afraid that Joan's indifference toward the pregnancy would translate to the baby once it was born. But the moment the nurse placed Hannah in her arms, Joan fell hopelessly in love. The scene before him now was a sight that had become increasingly familiar in the three months since Hannah was born.

A little reluctant to end it, Adam went to Joan's side and stroked his hand over her hair. "Hey."

"Hey," she whispered back without looking away from their daughter.

"You've been sitting here a long time."

"I know. She's just so beautiful."

Adam smiled and looked down at Hannah. "Just like her mother," he agreed. "But you're supposed to sleep when she sleeps. You know that."

Joan pouted.

He grinned. "Does that mean I can take her?"

"I guess."

Adam gently lifted Hannah in his arms, kissed her tiny forehead and placed her in the crib. Then he crouched in front of his wife and took her hands in his. "Jane, what's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you come in here every night when she cries and stay for hours just looking at her," he said. "You spend all day with her, so what's going on?"

Joan opened and closed her mouth a few times, clearly at a loss for words. Finally, she said, "She's my little girl."

Adam stood, tugging lightly on her hands. "Come on."

"But . . ." She wilted at the unyielding look he gave her. "Fine," she said, rising out of the chair and allowing him to lead her out of the room.

"You know," he said as he closed the door behind them and headed down the hall, "I'm a little hurt you'd rather stare at Hannah all night than sleep with me."

"You are not," she chuckled.

"Aren't I?" he asked as they got in bed.

Wrapping an arm around his waist, Joan laid her head on his shoulder and pressed into the curve of his body, laughter still thrumming through her body. "You know perfectly well that isn't true."

"Good." He hugged her to him and kissed the top of her head. "I love you, Jane."

Joan yawned and tucked herself deeper in his arms. "I love you, too, sweetie."

* * *

April 3, 2020

My darling Jane,

We've made it through another year. It's been difficult, seeing you so unhappy, knowing that I helped put the pain in your eyes. I worried that your unhappiness would become permanent dissatisfaction. You don't know how glad I am that it has passed. Seeing you laugh and smile again centers me. Watching you with Hannah and seeing the almost giddy delight on your face when you're with her brings me more joy than I imagined possible.

Sometimes, I have to take a moment to absorb just what we've accomplished. You and I have created a home full of love and creativity and happiness and, despite having a new addition to our family, life is beginning to settle down. No matter how hectic the world gets or how turned around things are with the kids, you continue to be my safe haven. I continue to try to be yours.

I wish I knew the words to express just how much you mean to me. Of course, that would mean understanding the depth of my love myself, and the truth is that it's beyond my comprehension. I'd thought that I knew my heart's strength and capacity to love when we got married. Now that we have Simon and Hannah, I'm discovering that my ability to love you, all of you, knows no bounds. It's bewildering and all-consuming and the most wonderful feeling I've ever known. Happy anniversary, my love.

Forever Yours,

Adam


	6. Overdue Changes

A/N: See? I've actually been working on stuff. Eventually, I'll even get around to updating _The Space Between_. One day. Anyway, enjoy.

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_**August 4, 2020**_

Adam slowly washed the dinner dishes. Joan had gotten Hannah down for the night an hour ago. When it was Simon's turn, he'd held his pudgy arms out to his mother. Smiling, Joan had scooped him up and told to kiss his daddy good night, which Simon obligingly did, before carrying him off to bed. That was fifteen minutes ago. In an effort to occupy himself as much as to be helpful, Adam had ambled to the kitchen to clean up.

Unfortunately, dishwashing was a fairly mindless endeavor and didn't distract him from his thoughts at all. After four years of working year-round at the university and trying to balance his professional life with his young family and still have a semblance of a personal life, Adam had finally taken a summer off. Limiting himself to no more than three days a week in his studio, Adam had spent the time with Joan and the kids and reconnecting with friends. Despite feeling like he could breathe for the first time since moving to New York, a sense of dissatisfaction with his life plagued him. The feeling had only grown over the last few weeks. With an inward sigh, Adam turned his attention back to the dishes.

He was rinsing off the glasses when Joan's arms slipped around his waist. Pressing against his back, she gave a low sigh and rested her chin on his shoulder. "Thanks," she said softly.

"For what?"

"Doing the dishes."

Patting her hands, he said, "You're welcome. Simon asleep?"

"Mm-hmm," she murmured and kissed the side of his neck. "You want help with that?"

"I'm good," Adam replied with a shake of his head.

They fell silent. He enjoyed Joan's closeness, her heat seeping into him, the gentle aura of love that enveloped him. But he still felt something wasn't right. And he hated to admit what it was, even to himself.

Joan gave him a little squeeze and slid her hands up his back to his shoulders. "Why are you so tense?" she asked as she began to massage his neck.

"No reason," he said, hoping to avoid an in-depth discussion.

For a moment, he thought Joan wasn't going to pursue the conversation. She simply leaned into the massage, moving to his shoulders and gradually making her way down his back. Her hands were just above his waist when she said, "You've been quiet lately. Really quiet."

He didn't answer, choosing to focus on the pan she'd roasted the chicken in instead.

"Please tell me what's bothering you."

His shoulders slumped. She sounded so concerned. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Talk about what?"

"Just drop it, Jane. Please?"

"Can't you just tell me?"

Adam shook his head.

"Why not?" she asked, the concern in her voice taking a sharp, desperate edge.

He dried his hands and braced them on the sides of the sink, disturbed by what he heard in his wife's voice. Instantly, he knew that she'd been silently worrying about him, probably waiting for him to open up to her voluntarily. Now she couldn't wait any longer and Adam knew she'd just pester him until he cracked. What he didn't know was how he could share his thoughts with her without making her think less of him. Taking a deep breath, he admitted, "I don't want to say it out loud."

"Why?"

"Because it won't make it better."

"Brooding about it by yourself won't make it better either," Joan pointed out as she wrapped her arms around him again. "Tell me. Let me help make it better."

Laying his hands over hers, Adam straightened and took a moment to collect his thoughts. Finally, he whispered, "I'm a bad father, Jane."

Her incredulous gasp tickled the back of his neck, making him shudder. "What?"

"I-I'm . . ." he paused. He couldn't make himself repeat the words. "You heard me."

"You are not a bad father, Adam," she stated fiercely.

He shrugged. He'd expected her to say that, even if it wasn't true.

"Hey. Look at me," she demanded. When he didn't move, Joan turned him toward her. Adam focused his eyes on the slope of her shoulder. Gently, she took his face in her hands and forced him to meet her gaze. "What ever made you think such a thing?"

"It's just true," he said, looking away from her.

"No, it . . ."

"Yeah. It is." Now that he'd admitted his inadequacy, all the thoughts he'd been trying to ignore came together in his mind. "I don't know my own kids, Jane."

"That's not true."

"I don't know who their friends are," Adam began, ticking each item off on his fingers. "I don't know their friends' parents or how they spend their days or what their favorite foods or toys are. Before this summer, I couldn't have told you what Simon's favorite book or color or cartoon character was."

"That doesn't necessarily make you a bad father, honey," Joan began only to be interrupted.

"Doesn't it? A good parent knows these things. You know these things."

"Yeah, but that's because I'm with them all the time."

"Exactly," he exclaimed, collapsing against the sink and folding his arms across his chest. "You spend time with the kids. I don't."

"You have a lot on your plate right now." She held up her hand when he opened his mouth to reply. "Hear me out. You have a very involved job. You're taking those doctorate classes to improve your career while trying not to neglect your art. Then there's me and the kids and our friends and our families back home. There's only so much you can do and only so much time you can do it in. Don't be so hard on yourself."

Adam smiled at Joan and brushed a hand over her cheek but shook his head anyway. "It doesn't work that way, Jane. None of that is an excuse for not knowing our children."

"You're the sole provider in the house, Adam . . ."

"So what?" he asked. "That gives me a free pass to ignore Simon and Hannah?"

"Of course, not. I never said . . ."

"Then what are you saying, Jane?"

"If you'd let me finish a sentence, maybe I'd tell you," she yelled. Joan closed her eyes and took a deep breath, clearly trying to rein in her temper. He also suspected she was listening to see if Hannah had awakened. Simon could sleep through a disaster, but it took next to nothing to wake their daughter. Finally, she opened her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you."

"I'm sorry I kept interrupting."

Joan dismissed his apology with a wave of her hand before stepping closer and laying a hand on his cheek. "What I was trying to say is that you and I have very clear, very separate roles in the family. You make sure we have everything we need and I take care of the kids. That's what we agreed to."

"No, Jane. We agreed to you being a stay-at-home mom until you felt comfortable going back to work," he corrected. "We never agreed that I'd be exempted from taking part in Simon and Hannah's lives."

"But you're not exempted."

"Isn't that what you just did?"

She stared up at him, speechless. Adam saw tears forming in her eyes, but she blinked them back before that could fall. Finally, she said, "You do spend time with them, though."

"But not enough," he said, drawing her into his arms. "Simon made that perfectly clear a couple weeks ago."

"I don't understand. What happened?"

"Do you remember when he started insisting you put him to bed and then wouldn't go to sleep?"

"How could I forget?" she asked. "The endless stories and songs and shadow puppets—it was awful. But what does that have to do with anything?"

"I talked to him—asked him why he kept insisting you put him to bed only to refuse to go to sleep."

"What did he say?"

"He said he missed you."

Joan frowned at him. "Missed me? How could he possibly miss me when he's with me all day?"

"He thought that you didn't care as much about him as you used to because you paid so much attention to Hannah," Adam said quietly.

"But we talked about it," Joan muttered, almost to herself.

Adam shrugged and kissed her forehead. "I'm just telling you what he told me."

Joan sighed. Eventually, she asked, "So?"

"So what?"

"What does Simon's missing me have to do with you thinking you're not a good dad?"

"Since bedtime was my duty, practically the only time I have with him, I asked him if he didn't miss me. He looked me in the eye and said 'I miss Mommy.'" Adam looked down at the glass pendant around Joan's neck. A picture of Simon and Hannah was in it this year. "He willingly sacrificed what little time he spends with me to be with you. It didn't even occur to him to miss me because he doesn't know me. I'm a familiar stranger to him. I don't want that kind of relationship with them, Jane."

He'd expected Joan to argue with him. Instead she hugged him. Closing his eyes, Adam hugged her back.

When she pulled back several minutes later, she kissed his chin and gave him a contrite smile. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asked, taken aback.

"For my part in this."

"You didn't . . ." he began only to stop at the pointed look she was giving him.

"I haven't really let you share the child-raising responsibilities with me," Joan admitted sheepishly. "I guess I thought that taking care of them was my contribution to the family since I wasn't working. It became my domain and I didn't want to share it because I would have felt like I was getting off easy. I never stopped to think about how that affected you, so I'm sorry."

He gave her a lop-sided smile. He should have known she'd try to absolve him of his guilt. "I let it happen, Jane. This is my fault, not yours."

"Yeah, but . . ."

"My fault," he repeated, grasping her chin and capturing her gaze. "Not yours."

Joan clearly wanted to argue the point, but instead asked, "So what are you going to do? I know you've been thinking about it."

"Well, I think I'm going to stop taking doctorate classes."

"What about your career?"

"It's never been my lifelong dream to be a college professor, Jane. You know that. I was only taking the classes because Marcus thought I should. I think he's trying to groom me to take his place in the department. That's not what I want."

"Are you thinking of quitting?" she asked, a hint of surprise in her voice.

"No," he said with a laugh, "but no more classes. From now on—well, spring semester on—I'm going to try to arrange things so that I'm home more."

"And your art?"

"I want to focus on it more than I have recently, but, right now, being home with you and the kids is more important. I don't know when it happened, but my priorities have gotten completely screwed up. I feel like I've put everything else on the back burner for this job and . . ." Adam trailed off with a sigh.

"What do you need me to do?"

He rested his arms on her shoulders and tunneled his fingers into her hair, stroking the sensitive area behind her ears with his thumbs. "Just be patient with me. Maybe give me some pointers here and there."

Joan chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Okay."

"Okay." Adam gently tugged her to him and brushed his lips over hers. "I'm going to finish the dishes."

"I'll do it," she said.

"You don't have to."

"I want to." She slipped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his shoulder briefly before letting him go and turning to the dishes. Joan plunged her hands in the dishwater, made a noise of disgust, and dumped the water. As she refilled the dishpan, he moved toward the living room. He'd just reached the doorway when he heard her say, "Adam?"

"Yeah?" he asked, turning toward her.

"Simon told me you got a bunch of books about being a big brother and having a new baby in the family. He said you read him the stories for weeks. He also said that you said you had just as many questions."

"Well, he asked me," he answered.

"Whenever he shows you a new picture or project he made," she continued as she turned off the facet and began to wash dishes, "you stop whatever you're doing and look it over. You praise it and ask questions, and suggest new things for him to try."

Adam shrugged. "If I know anything, it's art."

"And even though the flying monkeys freak you out, you watched _The Wizard of Oz_ with him when I was too tired to do it. Hannah loves it when you play with her. And when you remembered to get up with me when she cried at night, you'd make me go back to bed as soon as I finished feeding her then sing her to sleep."

"What's your point, Jane?"

"My point," she said, drying her hands as she turned toward him, "is that bad fathers don't do those things."

"Those are just isolated events . . ."

"No." Joan crossed the kitchen and stood before him. "Those are examples of how you are with the kids. You are patient, gentle, and loving with them. You treat Simon's problems as seriously as you do yours or mine. You absolutely adore Hannah. Just like other good daddies, you'd bend over backwards for them if you had to."

"Maybe . . ."

"There is no maybe about it, Adam. You are not a bad father. Stop looking only at the things you don't know or haven't done and start acknowledging all the good things about your relationship with them. Yeah, we could all do better, even me. But you're not doing as bad as you think."

"Thanks for that," he said softly after a long moment.

"I mean it."

"I know." He gave her a reassuring smile when she glanced at him skeptically. "I'm going to go draw a bath. Join me when you're done here?"

Joan sighed, clearly unhappy about being unable to convince him that his parenting skills didn't suck. But she smiled up at him and nodded. "Sure."

Adam pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she whispered back. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

Nodding, he left the kitchen and made his way to their bathroom. His mind was filled with ways to improve his connection to his family. Joan may not think anything was wrong, and she may be right, but he wasn't satisfied with things simply being okay. He was determined that things were going to get better. Much, much better.

* * *

April 3, 2021 

Dear Jane,

I've never told you this, but one of my primary motivators is you. The thought of that proud, delighted look in your eyes, the one that says you knew I could do it all along, has driven me to accomplish things I didn't think I could do. One of the worst things I can imagine is looking in your eyes and seeing disappointment in me reflected in them.

For the first time, I'm the one who's disappointed in me and knows that I can do better. I may be living up to your expectations as a father to our children, but I shouldn't. You should expect more of me. I know that you said I'm not a bad father and I accept that that's true. But not being a bad father isn't good enough, Jane. The kids deserve better and you deserve a real partner. You'll probably read this and think that I'm just putting undue stress on myself. I'm not. I just don't want the kids to grow up with a vague idea of who I am. And I don't want you to ever resent me for not being there and helping you raise them like I should.

So I've made a decision. You've probably already noticed that I've made some changes. They all stem from one idea: I'm choosing to make you and the kids my first priority. Nothing else matters as much as our family. You made that decision once. Now it's my turn. That means I'll be more involved. That also means that you won't be doing it alone anymore. I never want you to feel alone.

I also never want you to feel held back in any way. Since Simon was born, you've put your needs and dreams on the back burner. It's been slowly eating away at you ever since. The time has come for you to step out into the world again, Jane, and share your light the way you were meant to. You said that you could improve as a parent as well. The best way for you to do that is by taking care of whatever is missing in your life. Don't worry about the kids and me; whatever you can't do, I'll do for you. We're a team, you and I. It's time we started acting like it, for our sake as well as the kids'.

I love you more than I ever thought possible, Jane. Happy anniversary.

Adam


End file.
